Your erotic stories

It was 6 am and 18 year old Maya lazily rolled over to shut off her alarm. An hour earlier than she was expected to wake up, she decided to relax in bed for a few minutes before the fast-paced day began. It was the first day of their family reunion and Maya and her parents had a long drive ahead of them before they got to her grandparents' lake house where the reunion was being held. As she stretched, her raggedy sleep shirt was pulled up to expose her flat, bronze stomach; the early morning air chilled her body and gave her goosebumps, hardening her nipples. As she reached up to pull her thick, curly hair into a bun, she ran her hands over her sizable breasts and gasped in arousal.

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She was 5'5" in sneakers and had legs for miles. Creamy white skin dotted with freckles stretched over a small frame and topped with flaming red hair, she was every boy's wet dream. And on Fridays, when she wore that cheerleader's uniform, she was half the girls' wet dream, too.

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This is a true story. At least it's the way I remember it. John and I had known each other since high school. He was a tall, dark, athletic and an extremely handsome "lady-killer". I never had a problem getting dates, but it was usually because I was John's best friend. Getting laid was a little harder, but sometimes the promise of a date with John would do the trick.

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"Hi I'm Steve." The girl looked up quickly and turned slightly away, hands defensively covering her middle. She needn't have bothered. I had always liked curvy girls and when I had come around the corner of the narrow overgrown trail that led down the hillside to the secluded beach I had stopped to admire her.

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Sometimes a man's path of action is planned out over days, or weeks, or months, and follows well-practiced steps to an anticipated place. And other times... When I got out of the car at Oakwood Mall on that Saturday afternoon in June, I had no thoughts for adventure, risk, pleasure. I just needed to go to Sears and buy a couple of tools.

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It was tradition among our friends to camp out in Jake's backyard at least once every summer. Jake had a giant tent, with three rooms and two closets. The first time we ever set it up it took us two hours. Working under the hot summer sun, joking and sweating, we were confident and untouchable. We were seniors this year, nearing maturity, working out every chance we had. Needless to say, we were very in shape.

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Ricks vision began to lighten; the world around him a kaleidoscope of pale swirls. His hearing was coming alive the hum of electric light tubes and a strange ventilation sucking noise filling the air. He sensed the passage of time-was it still evening? He didn't think so. His mind tried to retrace his steps.

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Billy Joe Parker hears a vehicle pull up outside the beat up old trailer where he lives with his daddy. He looks out the window and sees Sally Mae Struthers getting out of her pick-up truck. She's wearing a pair of tight shorts and a cotton top that stretches across her ample tits. Billy Joe hasn't seen her in a long time and is pleasantly surprised by the unexpected visit. He walks out to say hello.

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The identity of the man who purchased the mansion on the hill that rose above any landmarks for a mile around was a mystery to every resident of Langley Street, the street that led motorists and pedestrians alike to the private estate and the foot of its sweeping front drive. As much as rumor could provide, the new owner was a young man in his early twenties, obviously a man who had recently come into good fortune, either by his own merit or by luck.

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The early morning flight settled softly onto the runway rousing us from our light slumber, the heat of the day burst into the cabin as the main doors opened and the fragrant smells of the island filled the air. We made our way out, gathered our luggage, & shuffled through customs before we finally climbed into our rental car. Kate navigated as we made our way across the island the small beachside villa we'd rented.

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